||one shots|| FNAF X READER (mostly Michael)

where else would I go?

teen Michael x reader (angst)

|| Thoughts of suicide?||

bawling my eyes out while making this

- - - - - - 

I throw my bag on the floor of my room, slamming the door behind me. I don't even think I closed the front door, but who cares? Won't be my problem in a little. Soon, it'll all be in the past, who's gonna give a shit about a door being left open when there's a dead body?

I sit in front of the door, leaning against it, taking deep breaths. I can't really explain the way I feel, all I can say is that I feel stupid for thinking the way I do. I don't know why I'm so fucked up, I mean... My family's not bad, sure, my parents fight, but every couple does. They used to have big fights, which... led to CPS coming over. 

Once in the 6th grade, I was pulled out of 3rd period to talk to a lady about my home life. She was nice. 

I turn my head and look at my bed. I get up and walk towards it, kneeling down and grabbing a box from under it. I stare at it for a few seconds, gulping, and letting out a deep sigh. I open the box, seeing some old tissues, a white long sleeve with a couple of blood splatters, a journal, a few broken sharpeners, and... an empty spot. An empty spot where a box cutter should be.

It's missing. Someone was in my room.

I get up and frantically start to search for it. I bump into my nightstand, pushing over the lamp. I run over to my vanity, sweeping everything off of it, all my things falling onto the floor. A handheld mirror was pushed onto the floor, making it shatter. I stop and look at myself in the big mirror on the vanity, seeing tears run down my face. 

Things shouldn't be like this.

I look at the floor, seeing the broken handheld mirror. I sit on the floor, in front of it, reaching for one of the shattered glass pieces, pricking my finger, making me flinch and pull back. I shake it off and grab the piece of glass, staring at it in my hand. 

I get up, still holding the piece, and looking at myself in the mirror big mirror. My mascara's ruined, my hair's messy, and my eyes look puffy and red from crying so much. I hear the front door slam, making me jump and drop the glass shard as it slices my hand, drawing blood. I hear footsteps come closer and closer. The door hand jiggles and I run to it just before it opens. I grab the handle, slamming it shut, and locking it. "You left your front door open..." I know that voice. 

"Go away, Michael, I'm not in the mood" I choke out. "Look, I saw how sad you were at school, y/n... I just... I know, okay? I know you're not okay, and I know something is wrong. I know it really seems like I don't care, but I do. And... I know it probably seems like the end of the fucking world but... It's not. You're gonna be fine, bad things come before good. You just have to be patient" Tears start to fall once again. "Y/n, I-" 

"I think you should leave, Michael!" I say shakily. "Are... Are you crying?" he asked as I wiped my tears and cleared my throat. "No! No... Just... Go away!" I hear him sigh, "Please just let me in..." I groan and unlock the door, sitting down on the floor and pulling my legs close to me, hugging them tightly. "Why're you here?" I ask, looking away from him, "Where else would I go? You're all I have" he chuckles. 

He looks around the room, seeing drips of blood from when I sliced my hand, seeing things all over the place, seeing the box I pulled from under my bed, and seeing me. He saw me, slightly faded scars on my arms, my hand bleeding, my makeup a mess, my hair messed up, and my eyes. My red, puffy eyes, showing him that I had been crying. 

I sat there on the floor, embarrassed, and wanting to cry even more. He stared at me and didn't look away. He knelt down and sat next to me on the floor, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. "So what's the matter?" he asked, obviously not knowing how to comfort. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was trying. He was trying to be there for me like I was for him after his brother's birthday party. After his friends left him. After his mom died. After his dad began hating him.

"I can't exactly say" That was the truth. I didn't have a reason to be the way I was. This was just a pointless fucking breakdown. Nothing but a tantrum that a toddler would throw. I don't know why I was sad. I don't know why I was angry. 

Maybe it was because I felt like everyone truly hated me. Maybe it's because I've never felt loved, even by my own parents and even in every relationship I've been in. Maybe it was because every day was the same and it was gonna stay like that til I die. Maybe it's because I felt alone, even when around people. Maybe it was because I hated leaving my room. maybe it was because waking up felt more like a chore than something to be happy about. Maybe it's because my bed felt so comfortable it was a struggle even to get up and take care of myself. Maybe it's because I'll never actually be someone. I'll never be seen, I'll never be understood, I'll always be the same stupid girl.

I could go on and on about why I could be like this, but it would be a waste of time. I don't have a  specific reason. Ever since I was little, shit just never felt right. Maybe I was just born fucked up in the head. 

I guess we'll never know. 

"Y/n? Are you gonna tell me?" he asked in a soft tone, "I don't know," I said bluntly, staring at the wall. "What?.. How do you not know?" he asked, "I don't fucking know! I literally said I don't know! Why can't you get that through your fucking head and leave me alone?!" I snapped. "Shit... I'm sorry, I'm just... I don't have anything to really talk about." I sighed. "It's alright, I get it" do you? "I mean... I don't get what you're going through, but..." Of course. "I'm willing to try and get it," he said as I finally turned my head to look at him, making him giggle. I rolled my eyes and turned away from him once again, "No, No! I'm sorry, let me just..." He got up and looked around the room, grabbing a brush and walking back over to me, getting on his knees behind me and beginning to brush my hair. (CAN'T RELATE BC I HAVE CURLY HAIR, SO I CAN'T BRUSH MY HAIR WHILE DRY...)

I blushed softly, good thing he wasn't looking. He finished my hair and even braided it for me. "Can you look at me?" he asked, I didn't want to. But I enjoyed his company and didn't want him to get mad. I turned to look at him, "Hm..." He looked at my vanity, seeing nothing on it. "Oh, uhm..." I pointed to the floor, where I had tossed everything. He smiled and grabbed the makeup wipes, wiping off the runny mascara for me. 

"I'm sorry..." I whispered, "For what?" he asked, still looking at me. "For being such a pain" I chuckled as he smiled and caressed my cheek. His smile disappeared and his gaze fell to my lips, he gulped and blushed, making his cheeks turn a crimson color. He leaned in hesitantly, not going all the way. I couldn't take it anymore. I leaned in and kissed him eagerly. I crawled closer to him, putting my hands on his shoulders and pushing him on the floor gently. I sit in his lap and pull away, breaking the kiss apart. His face was red and so was mine. He beams and his eyes light up as he smiles widely, "Y/n... I think... I think I-" I wanna say it before he does "I love you, Michael" I smile and kiss him on the forehead, lying my head on his chest. 

"Y-You don't wanna lie on your bed, or the couch? It'd be more comfortable..." He suggested, "Okay, Okay, I'll stop crushing you, we can go to the living room, my room is clearly a mess" I giggle, getting off of him and helping him up.

------

1480 words

pls someone read this stupid book before I kms/hj

lala haha